


Don't Tread On Me

by MellytheHun



Series: Kylux Week 2016 [5]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Falling In Love, Fluff, Humor, I still don't accept Hux's canon name, Jealous Kylo Ren, Jealousy, Kylux Week 2016, M/M, POV Alternating, Possessive Behavior, Romance, Tumblr Prompt, still using my fanon name for him, tumblr event
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-09-09 15:43:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8897707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MellytheHun/pseuds/MellytheHun
Summary: Kylux Week 2016 Day 7 (December 11th) (except it's super duper late): Knights of Ren





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know this submission is super duper late and I'm sorry - I got so bogged down with end-of-semester work and the other fics I've been working on and so much more, I just couldn't complete it in time. I still hope y'all enjoy!

After everything he’s been through (not in just his dealings with Force-users, but his entire natural life to this point), Hux had good reason to believe having the entirety of the Knights of Ren aboard the _Finalizer_ would be nothing short of indescribably, aggressively _Hellish_. 

Hux’s reasoning was sound enough, after all. (Hux’s reasoning is always sound.)

First of all, the boarding was ordered by Snoke – it was a rarity that any mercy came down from Supreme Leader Snoke, thus to suspect that this ruling was in any way different and would somehow be a pleasant respite from Hux’s already chaotic life seemed unlikely. Strike one.

The second strike followed immediately after the order, with the moment Kylo found out about it; he was positively glowing, which was disturbing to Hux for several reasons. Most significantly among those being that Kylo smiled for little else than disordered pandemonium and personally ruining Hux’s life.

Thirdly, Hux (admittedly, a bit cartoonishly) imagined the Knights of Ren being an enormous flock of Kylo-Ren-Like-Creatures that would hail down from the void, running amok, wreaking havoc and destruction across his ship and not being held responsible for anything, leaving him to clean up the wreckage. 

He was positive they’d all climb on top of one another and transform into one gigantic, unstoppable, cosmic tantrum.

Prodigy he is, Hux is rarely wrong.

He was never so glad to be wrong.

Having the Knights of Ren aboard the _Finalizer_ is nowhere near as nightmarish as he feared it would be – in fact, he takes quite a liking to them. Just about instantly.

All in all, there are six; Zekk Ren, Daska Ren, Sol Ren, Corr Ren, Quix Ren and Taori Ren. 

The first surprise for Hux is when they initially board; he’s busy conversing with an Officer and actually doesn’t notice them until they are all a dark fog in his periphery. When he turns to watch them, he finds they are following Kylo around in a neat line, not disturbing any of the Officers or working engineers as they pass through the bridge, quiet despite drawing attention with their dark colors and intimidating masks – then one of them stops. They turn their head slowly to face Hux’s. Their vocoder is different than Kylo’s – it’s much more robotic. A bit more unnerving, inhuman.

“Starkiller,” they say, fully masked, but facing Hux – the vocoder must disguise some strange accent, because this Knight puts the emphasis on the wrong part of the word, so it sounds like ‘Star _kill_ er,” and more like a question than a declaration of recognition. This Knight might not speak Basic well, Hux thinks.

“Starkiller,” another repeats, more certain in his classification of Hux, “The red and white flame that burned the Hosnian System to cosmic dust. The Great Flame.”

 _Great Flame?_ Hux thinks, _Is that what people are calling me?_

 _Among other things_ , someone replies in his head, though he has no idea who.

Before he can bark at them all for weaseling into his mind, another speaks; “I encountered a Rebel who saw the transmission cast before Starkiller was fired; he told me that the leader of the First Order had eyes like the bluest, hottest flames of Hell. That to look into his eyes was to look into the very mouth of the Devil.”

“They have called you Ultimate Ruination, the Fall of All – the galaxy is frightened to so much as whisper your true name,” the first Knight tells him.

“That so?” Hux asks, a bit disbelievingly.

“That’s General Hux. _Co_ -Commander,” Kylo tells them, eyes gleaming at Hux’s disapproving stare.

Then, shocking both Kylo and Hux, all the Knights gather in front of Hux and kneel before him like a religious site. Hux stiffens up, unsure of how to react and he doesn’t dare look to Kylo for guidance – he’s rather sure Kylo won’t help him anyway. 

Another Knight looks up to him from beyond a different mask and says, “call me Daska, General. It is an honor to be in your presence.”

“Ah,” Hux begins awkwardly, looking at the bent heads before him, “not that I’m offended in any way, but… is there a reason you are all bowing?”

One Knight removes their mask, looking up at him with (thankfully) human eyes. They have long, blonde hair and light green eyes, a scar splitting their lips by the corner and a burn mark on what skin of their neck shows.

“I am Sol Ren, sir,” Sol tells him, “We all watched the destruction of the Hosnian System and we are to believe that Master Kylo Ren’s life is a gift you sacrificed all promise of safety to secure. If ever you need protection or defense, you have my saber, sir.”

Kylo is highly perturbed by the rosy blush climbing up Hux’s face; it’s uncharacteristically humble of him and Kylo is unused to sharing the Knights’ loyalties with anyone other than Snoke.

“Mine as well,” Daska adds, “If ever you need anything, please do not hesitate to seek me out.”

Zekk, Corr, Quix and Taori rapidly follow with pledges of their own very personal, appreciative allegiances, which leaves Hux, for the first time in his life, totally unequipped in an unprecedented social situation.

It’s not that Hux is unused to or opposed to the idea of being worshipped or admired – he just always imagined it would be in a setting of white robes, where he’d be saluted and applauded as a crown was bestowed on his head. Instead, he has found himself surrounded by a band of misfit Force-users he once predicted the worst of.

“I… uhm… well, please, stand,” Hux encourages awkwardly, not-quite-touching Daska in way of helping them up.

“This ship – you engineered it as well,” Corr announces – Hux reasons that if he knows that much, Corr must have been the one to speak directly into his mind before, “It is very impressive.”

“Thank you,” Hux replies, still stilted and awkward, very wrong-footed, “Might I – I don’t mean to offend, may I have your pronouns?”

“He,” Daska answers, as does Taori, Quix and Sol.

“They,” Zekk and Corr alone reply.

“Very good,” Hux responds, seeming more comfortable in a situation of gathering data, “Well, Knights, I am glad to have you aboard. I do apologize for any future confusion, as I refer to your Master as ‘Ren,’ alone.”

“You are welcome to call us by our given names, General,” Zekk encourages; the rest nod and hum in agreement.

In Kylo’s eyes, the strangest, most inappropriate anomaly occurs then.

Hux _smiles_ at them.

It sends Kylo’s insides into a violent churning motion.

“That certainly will make things easier,” Hux tells them politely, “Thank you.”

Sol takes a step closer to Hux, standing toe-to-toe with him, matching his height as all but two of the Knights do.

“What might we call you?”

“ _General_ is quite fine,” Hux answers, “My surname is acceptable as well – I am the only carrying it here, after all.”

“No spouse?”

If Hux is caught off-guard by the inquiry, Kylo is _staggered_ by it. 

“No,” Hux answers coolly.

“No prospect of one?” 

“No, I – I’m not…” Hux trails off, looking awkward again.

Sol stares at him, in want for his answer, “you’re not what, General?”

Tone may be gentle from Sol, but Hux perceives any potential challenge to his social/militant/intellectual skills as a direct insult. He sizes Sol up, gathering data all the way – Kylo can tell even from a distance. He knows Hux has different looks. 

Data-Gathering Looks, Secret-Keeping Looks, Biting-His-Tongue Looks, Plotting-Revenge Looks, Determining-Your-Value Looks, Inquisitive Looks, Appalled Looks, Aggravated-Beyond-Coherent-Speech Looks, About-To-Lecture-You Looks, Choosing-Whether-Or-Not-To-Kill-You Looks and many, many more. The look he gives Sol lands somewhere between Data-Gathering and Determining-Your-Value.

Straightening up, standing a bit more proudly, Hux feigns more social grace than he currently feels and finishes, “I’m not inclined towards frivolity and impermanence. I’m a man of loyalties and what I do, I do with all myself or not at all. Nothing lasts forever and romantic love is no exception to that rule and if I did find romantic love, I would only pursue it if it were truly worth sacrificing all the power I’ve accumulated in the Order. What good is love if it only becomes a transient liability? There is no spouse for me and no prospect of one. I can’t love and have what I have worked for simultaneously and so I will choose the one more lasting and that is, as I understand it, power.”

With sparkling eyes, Sol stares at him for a beat and then looks over his shoulder to Kylo and says in wonderment, “remarkable. He feels no fear. I can sense he understands the power of the Force – its magnitude, but he is unafraid of us. What have you shown him of the Force?”

“Nothing,” Hux laughs, bringing Sol’s attention back to him, “In six standard years together, Ren has taught me absolutely nothing about the Force; likely because he is well aware that I have little interest in what is not useful to me. And I am unafraid of you because I have demons much stronger than the Force could conjure. I’m a master of engineering, mathematics, strategy and combat. You are a master as well – just of a weapon I cannot wield. I hope you do not take offense, Sol. I have deep respect for you – all of you. I may not understand it, but all that means is that it is greater power than I can likely imagine. I envy you, if anything.”

Sol’s leafy green eyes are wide with surprise and then he smiles, handsome despite how pale he is. He doesn’t look at Kylo when he chides with a measure of awe to his voice, “Master Kylo Ren, you have neglected us terribly, hoarding General Hux all to yourself. And your descriptions of him have done him no justice.”

Hux doesn’t ask to hear what those descriptions are – he’s sure they’re not the flattering type and he doesn’t need more reason to resent Kylo. He simply inclines his head to Sol and responds politely, “well, I am deeply pleased to meet you all, but I have a series of conferences to see to. Must get going.”

“Conferences?” Zekk asks curiously, “What about?”

“Nothing all too interesting, I’m afraid,” Hux sighs, staring down at his holopad, “The Commandant will surely spend at least an hour shouting about my incompetence, then there will be discussions of weapon design, costs, investors, statistical likelihood of success, the losses suffered on Starkiller versus our numbers currently – it’s all rather dull.”

“Master Kylo Ren is not ready to release our attentions, but when we are free to roam, might I find you?” Sol asks kindly.

Hux’s brow furrows in confusion and Sol adds, “if I am at all a disturbance, I will leave you in peace. I… have never met someone that was not Force-sensitive, capable of such awe-inspiring power. If you are not opposed, I would very simply like to get to know you, General.”

Kylo glares dangerously at the back of Sol’s head as Hux’s cheeks get rosier – Hux is unused to gently inquisitive, kind attention. The other Knights are piping up – requesting to better acquaint themselves with him too and he finally gives a strange laugh (it’s nervous – Kylo wonders why he’s nervous – Hux is never nervous) and waves at them to fend off more flattery, effectively silencing them all at once.

Hux does not hide well how alarming that is to him; that they all stop in unison at his silent command. He clears his throat to brush away any lingering awkwardness – the Knights seem unaffected. Or perhaps they’re all so comfortable in their own skins that they just don’t notice when others are not.

“Well, Ren has a copy of my itinerary always available on his holopad –“

“You know I don’t carry that garbage with me,” Kylo growls behind his vocoder with more vitriol than the exchange calls for.

Hux gives him a dry, Unimpressed Look, rolls his eyes and then snags a holopad from a nearby Officer. He toys with it for a while, opening files or inboxes until his itinerary for the work cycle is on display. He hands it to Sol and says, “you can inbox me while I’m in my conferences through the holopad and if you need anything in urgency, feel free to comm me on my personal channel – Stars knows I’m always looking for an excuse to pardon myself early. That’s zero-zero-nine to get to my earpiece alone.”

Then, Hux offers his hand and says, in all sincerity, “it was a pleasure meeting you all.”

To his alarm again, all the Knights move gently to his hand, bowing their heads to touch at it.

“The pleasure is ours, I assure you, General Hux,” Quix speaks for them all.

All of them hum in agreement and when they finally part like a sea for him to get down his designated corridor, he makes a stop at Kylo. He stares at where Kylo’s eyes should be and utters quietly, “to think that I got saddled with you – I should be insulted by Supreme Leader’s choice to partner us. You should have forewarned me they were so charming.”

“They are not _for_ you,” Kylo sneers, fury bubbling up inside him more rapidly than he can control.

“Certainly not,” Hux agrees, “I would never imagine so. They’re agreeable, though. More in the last six minutes than you’ve ever been in the last six years. I like them. Don’t go keeping them to yourself now.”

With that, Hux leaves them all without a backward glance, Kylo’s blood boiling and his Knights watching after him in varying degrees of admiration and reverence. 

“Master Kylo Ren,” Sol begins, watching Hux’s back, “why does the General wear a greatcoat so thick?”

Kylo rolls his eyes, ready to insult Hux’s thin stature (which Kylo thinks he compensates for with the coat), but he is quickly disregarded.

“He runs cold,” Corr intercepts, also watching how Hux’s boots click against the floor, “Poor circulation. Passed down from his father.”

“ _Don’t_ go snooping in his head,” Kylo warns, feeling unexpectedly cagey, “Whatever trespasses you commit, he will blame on me.”

“Why have you not remedied that?”

“What?” Kylo asks, turning to Sol.

Sol is looking at him strangely, misunderstanding writ over his face, “why have you not helped him? Is he not your Co-Commander? Your partner? You could have worked with his aura, warmed him – his body is youthful still, malleable and his energies speak to great patience and openness to collaboration. You could heal this before it worsens for him. Why have you not offered your services?”

“He’s not –“ Kylo stumbles, unsure how to answer; Sol’s eyes are very demanding and it’s unsettling, “He’s just – it’s not – he doesn’t _care_. He’s never asked for my help.”

“He doesn’t seem the type to ask anyone for help,” Quix notes, “Independent and dignified that one is. Strong-willed. Spirited and determined. His aura is intoxicating – I must have the chance to spar with him. He has a warrior’s spirit.”

“ _Enough_ ,” Kylo demands, drawing the Knights’ collective attention back to him.

They look at him like they see through him – as if he were trying to hide something to call for transparency. He’s not sure what it is they’re looking for in his energies, but he is positive they will find nothing but directionless irritation. He supposes to himself that he’d hoped the Knights would band together with him, annoy Hux as a team and laugh with him at Hux’s expense. He sees now that their respect for him is too great to even suggest mistreating Hux.

He’s annoyed and disappointed.

“You’ve seen enough of the control bridge,” Kylo decides, turning down a separate hall from where Hux disappeared to, “I’ll show you to all of your respective quarters. Follow me.”

And they do, as they should.


	2. Chapter 2

Sol, Quix and Taori take (in Kylo’s opinion) an unhealthy interest in Hux – they’re so fascinated with him, Kylo wonders what madness Hux must have bewitched them with to send them so off the rails. It is sometimes hard for him to remember that Hux is not Force-sensitive and thus incapable of casting mind tricks – even if he does have his own brand of brain-washing. It takes more time, it’s less effective and it’s less impressive than Kylo’s use of the Force (Not that any of his Knights agree with him on that account anymore…), but it works on other human minds well enough.

Sol pursues Hux like he might pursue a sweethearted maiden and Hux is either entirely unaccustomed to being courted and so doesn’t see it for what it is, or he is intentionally stringing Sol along. Either way, seeing Sol speak with Hux and crowd Hux’s space makes Kylo’s teeth feel like sandpaper. He has no other way of describing how irritatingly uncomfortable it makes him.

Zekk, Corr and Daska seem more likely to throw themselves at Hux’s feet or toss flowers his way while he struts down the control bridge than try to bed him, but Kylo is finding that the Knights’ minds are often closed to him, so he might not be able to tell the difference. He doesn’t have as much access to their thoughts as he usually does and that in and of itself is highly suspicious. They’ve never, collectively, had anything to hide from him before.

Quix, Taori, Sol and Zekk insist on sparring with Hux, which Hux keeps putting off – he’s too smart to try to lie to Force-sensitive people, but he does manage to exaggerate how badly he’s needed in some meeting, personal aid call or conference call. Kylo thinks it’s because Hux doesn’t want them to see how small he is under the bulk of his uniform – how thin and weak he really is.

 _He’s deplorable_ , Kylo thinks, sneering to himself behind his mask.

During a conference Kylo is in attendance for – a conference regarding the fall of Starkiller – Hux grinds discussion to a halt, holds a hand up to pause the main speaker, who is only present through hologram and turns away slightly in his chair for the illusion of some degree of privacy. He touches his earpiece, clicks it on and asks, “General Hux speaking. Where is your emergency?”

The speaker was initially insulted, but his face relaxes into curious understanding; the rest around the table too seem to immediately forgive Hux for the social misstep that could have been disastrously insulting.

Kylo can sense the overwhelming respect all those in attendance have for Hux – they think so highly of him. They think he’s such an effective leader, that he cares so much for the cause, for the betterment of the galaxy, when in reality, he cares about furthering himself and himself alone.

Kylo is no one to criticize him for that, so he doesn’t, but he does resent the fact that everyone makes that assumption about _him_ off the bat, but never makes that assumption about Hux. He’s not sure what it is about Hux that makes people trust him so easily – how he can appear to be the welcoming, pastel flowerbed to unassuming eyes but remain the venomous snake beneath it, ready to pounce all the while. And no one ever sees his fangs but Kylo.

Strangely, Hux’s face turns reddish and he glances around the room awkwardly, muttering, “I – yes, I realize it’s running late, but your request isn’t exactly considered an emergency, Sol.”

All of Kylo’s muscles wire with tension – _why is **Sol** contacting **Hux** so personally and privately during a **meeting**?_

“Yes, I swear it – I can’t see the conference going over another twenty minutes. You will have my audience then. Very good. Thank you.”

Clearing his throat, Hux switches his earpiece off and turns back to the table.

“My apologies – we have some guests aboard the _Finalizer_ , still a bit new to protocol. It won’t occur again.”

“Not to worry, my boy,” one of the other, very aged, Generals replies, “You handled that respectably. Now, let’s get back to work here so that you aren’t kept past twenty minutes more.”

Some of the others at the table laugh companionably and Hux gives one of his smiles that never reaches his eyes – he does that a lot. When he’s forced into niceties like this, Kylo has observed this exact expression time and again – this smile that is so difficult for Hux to mimic, as if he’s reading and practicing from a poorly transcribed data file on ‘How to Look like a Person.’ No one else ever seems to notice how insincere the smiles are. Kylo can tell, though.

He thinks others don’t notice, perhaps, because they refuse to look directly into Hux’s eyes and so they don’t see that the smile on his lips is nowhere in his gaze. When people look at Hux, they typically stare just above his eyes, at the center of his forehead or on his lips – to be fair, being under Hux’s scrutiny is intense and most are not built to withstand the pressure of it.

Haughty and idiotically sure of himself as he always is, Hux never refuses a stare, even when he should. He is always willing to meet someone’s eyes and he will stare at others’ eyes even as they, very apparently, do not meet his. Kylo believes that Hux must relish in making others uncomfortable. He likes that he frightens them. That his eyes alone are too severe to look directly into; it’s a power rush for him. It also maintains the flowerbed illusion – no one is looking for the shine of a serpent, which they’d see if they just looked at him properly, but Kylo can see those damnable, thin, diamond pupils. He can see Hux for the snake he really is.

When the conference lets out, Sol is waiting outside and Hux, to Kylo’s surprise, is unbothered. He holds his holopad and greets, “Sol. You know very well that was inappropriate.”

Sol smiles deviously at him and replies, “I was growing impatient.”

“Patience is a virtue,” Hux reminds him, like a chiding mother.

“And I’m to assume your virtue is intact?”

Hux rolls his eyes at the double entendre and responds curtly, “ _heel_ , Sol.”

Sol bows to him, his long hair tied back in a high bun and a conspiratorial smirk on his face, “yes, sir.”

“What was he growing impatient about?” Kylo interjects.

Hux turns around to look at him, his expression bored if anything and he says simply, “he and the rest of your brothers in arms have finally cornered me into sparring, it would seem. They took up most of the mundane chores in my schedule for the day without telling me so that I have the next three hours free and no escape route.”

Sol laughs at Hux’s displeasure at being tricked into bonding with them; instantly, Kylo lights up inside – he _must_ watch Hux be humiliated. Certainly, Kylo thinks, this will be the hour that the Knights realize that Hux is ordinary as any other human man – he just happens to be particularly smart. He is no warrior.

Hux has spent the last many cycles skillfully avoiding this and Kylo is overjoyed that his hand is being forced and the Knights will see him for the hand-fed, more academically inclined weakling he really is.

Kylo announces that he will be following them to the training room and there, all the other Knights sit and wait. Only two still wear their masks and armor – everyone else is dressed down and looking eager to fight their newfound hero – to test his strengths.

Kylo can admit he enjoys watching things go down in flames, but he thinks that Hux, in particular, he will enjoy seeing go down in flames most of all.

“Me first,” Sol says as they walk into the room – much to the ire of the rest of the Knights.

There’s mumblings and small arguments that ensue about who gets to fight Hux in what order – an argument about which Kylo can’t be bothered with. He is busy watching Hux.

Sliding it off his shoulders with ease, Hux folds his greatcoat and puts it on the floor, then throws his hat down as well. He unbuckles the belt looped around his high waist and takes off his uniform jacket – it’s at the sound of his belt buckle hitting the floor that the rest of the Knights turn to watch him as well.

He has a black collared shirt on, which he unbuttons patiently, folds and organizes onto the pile he’s made on the floor and that layer removed reveals a vast show of pale skin Kylo’s never seen before. Hux is even thinner than he first imagined; his skin is porcelain-like, freckled over his upper-chest and arms, his clavicle is defined and the black tank he wears beneath all his layers is skin-tight against him.

The black shirt wears almost like a bodysuit for how tight it is – his tapered waist is outlined, the curvature of his back is pronounced and around his neck are dog tags that Kylo has also never seen.

Hux tucks them into his tank top, as if he senses Kylo’s curiosity.

“Right,” Hux announces, turning to Sol, “now, what style are we getting at here?”

“What do you mean?” Sol asks.

Hux crosses his arms and explains, “I’m a sixth degree black belt in the mixed combat arts of the First Order and a weapons specialist. That means I’m trained in Idolian Jiu-Jitsu, Wrestling, Boxing, Savate, Kendo, Iaido, Judo, Fencing, Sambo, Krav Maga, Isshin-Ryu, Aikido, Muay Thai, Eskrima, Hapkido, Shootfighting, and Kickboxing. Being a sixth degree black belt means I’ve been cleared to supervise and train other instructors in teaching lower belt levels in advanced ground fighting, advanced chokes, advanced holds, advanced throws, unarmed joint manipulations with enhanced pain compliance, advanced upper and lower body strikes, advanced knife techniques, pressure points, improvised weapons, counterattacks and weaponized fighting, meaning blaster versus blaster, short weapon versus blaster and unarmed versus short weapon and/or blaster. I am qualified as well to teach S.C.A.R.S, also known as Special Combat Aggressive Reactionary Systems, based mostly on sciences of psychology, physiology, physical movement and manipulation of the nervous system. That’s not the whole of my combat resume, but I assume you’ll want something like a fair fight, so I thought I’d let you choose what art we’ll engage in.”

Sol’s eyes sparkle and infatuation pulsates off him, turning his aura pink and red as he admires Hux – Kylo would be more bothered by the blatant hearts in Sol’s eyes if he could acknowledge Sol’s crush at all in that moment. His mind was drawing up an error screen, though.

“…you fight?”

Hux turns his head to Kylo, his expression incredulous and he asks highly sarcastically, “I’m sorry, but it is a _war_ we’re fighting, right? There’s infantry and battles and the like? Men in uniforms and armor, survival situations? And – correct me if I’m wrong – _which I’m not_ – but, were you not aware that I grew up _within_ the Order? Of _course_ I know how to fight, you fucking _knob_. I’m _a General_ of the _First goddamn Order_. Qualifications for that title go a little beyond crocheting, if you can believe it.”

Nearly wincing at how sharply Hux’s indignant tone digs into him, Kylo shuts his mouth before he winds up embarrassing himself and Sol brings Hux’s attention back to him.

“I would ask you to show us all you have to offer, General,” Sol says reverently, excitement bubbling up, “I assume this is a Force-free fighting zone?”

To Kylo’s irritation and offense, Hux laughs, as if to suggest using the Force is like asking to bring a feathered pillow into the combat practice space.

“Oh, by all means, go ahead and use the Force,” Hux encourages, walking towards the center of the room where the mats cover the floor, “Just do me the favor of keeping most of my equipment in tact.”

“But…” Quix begins, looking back and forth between some of the Knights also glancing at each other, “it won’t be a fair fight? You are not Force-sensitive…”

“I have a healthy respect for the Force, mind you, but I am just as capable of breaking your bones, paralyzing you and killing you with my bare hands, thank you very much,” Hux responds, bland as ever, unreadable, “I am sure you will make for challenging opponents, but I should warn you not to get ahead of yourselves. I’ve no intention of losing.”

Sol grins at him, eager and jubilant, “you are endlessly fascinating, General.”

“Thank you, Sol,” Hux replies, “Now, get up here and allow me to put you to shame.”

With a laugh, Sol takes his place in front of Hux and a few beats of silence pass until Sol realizes that Hux is waiting for him to make the first move; they dance. Both have their arms up, straight – Kylo watches closely, noting that Hux relies on his left-side body – the first jab Sol makes is blocked by Hux’s forearm. His second swing is ducked under, Hux lands a quick jab that doesn’t faze Sol and then Sol delivers another blocked jab – Hux clicks his tongue disapprovingly, “elbows in, Sol! Where is your form? You’re barely keeping your fist straight. Come now, Sol, surely you have more to offer!”

Smiling, Sol nods with a silent agreement to try harder. He raises his arm, like he might bring it down on Hux, which Hux goes to block, but then an invisible force is pushing Hux away. Sol’s Force-shove should have knocked Hux down, but Hux remains on his feet, riding the push like a wave and absorbing the energy of it; looking now more than ever like a prowling cat.

Hux touches one hand to the floor, gives Sol’s full body a once-over and then spins in place, low, until his heel digs into the mat and he pounces low into Sol’s space, using his right fist to distract Sol while his left fist drives up in between Sol’s ribs.

With the air temporarily knocked out of him, Sol’s hands go to where Hux has intentionally bruised an organ – Hux grabs both side’s of Sol’s head and brings his head down while kicking his knee up, giving Sol a very bloody nose, then taking three quick steps back, arms up and ready again.

Sol staggers backwards and, holding his head in pain with one hand, swipes with his other arm through the air, throwing Hux against the far mirrors while he wipes the blood out from under his nose. He stares at Hux and says, “that was impressive.”

“I do so wish we could trade places, then,” Hux mocks, “I might die of boredom before I get another swing in.”

Kylo is infuriated on Sol’s behalf, but Sol is invigorated by Hux’s arrogance.

“The last thing I want to do is bore you, sir,” Sol promises.

“Then _impress_ me,” Hux suggests impatiently, walking away from the mirrors and back to the center of the mats.

Their hand-to-hand continues for a long while and Hux never breaks a sweat. He’s lean, quick, and seems somehow more capable of predicting the future than the Knights around him. Technically, Hux wins – he keeps Sol down to the ground for three solid beats, but Sol, dirty player that he is, uses a Force-hold to tie them.

Hux announces authoritatively that he disregards any winning found on Sol’s account, seeing as he won ‘first.’ It’s all a bit childish, truth be told.

The Knights have their goes at Hux – he somehow matches them in combat despite being maybe a hundred pounds sopping wet and not having nearly the same muscle mass. He is agile, though and is more observant than any ordinary human has any right to be.

He explains to Zekk while they fight that his strength is not in his muscles, precisely, but in his ‘core.’ He explains how the element of martial arts in his combat training has taught him how breath and energy can move through the body, make a blow feel more powerful than it might truly be.

When Zekk tells him that breath could not be nearly so important as focus while in the heat of battle, Hux responds by knife-handing him in the windpipe and saying, “I’d say you could use more of both, dear Zekk,” and then doing a simple sweep of Zekk’s legs to secure Zekk’s disqualification.

“I encourage your surrender, Zekk. Hyoid bones are easily broken and you’ll want to see that you don’t choke on yours.”

With a groan of surprise and near-laughter, Zekk admits defeat and doesn’t get up from the mat before taking the time to heal himself.

The bone is truly broken when he hits the ground.

Quix, while presenting more of a challenge (without use of the Force), is taken out by an impressive shoulder-throw, Taori talks his way into two rounds with Hux – defeating Hux in the first round (with excessive Force use), then insisting Hux take him down – as if it were some honor to be beaten by him; some rite of passage or something that all the other Knights got and he wants as well. Hux winds up in a ground fight with Taori, eventually managing to choke him into unconsciousness as Taori’s powers flutter out like a dying light around the room.

Hux’s arms are tucked tightly around Taori’s neck and he’s not pulling or pushing, just flexing his arm against the throbbing artery supplying blood and oxygen to Taori’s brain, destroying his hold on the Force and quickly making him boneless.

“If you can get your hand under my arm, you’ve still a chance, Taori. All you have to do is get your hand under my arm and tuck your chin – you’re all quite keen on offense and know nothing of defense, it’s deplorable, really. You could get out of this, sleep probably sounds more appealing right about now, doesn’t it, Taori?” Hux taunts.

When Taori passes out, Hux instructs one of the Knights to revive him; once he’s awake and smiling drunkenly, he asks “how would I have gotten out of that?”

Kylo can see that Hux has developed at least a thin sheen of sweat now – he’s well-trained. Kylo didn’t know.

“Elementary, really,” Hux starts, “Someone’s got you in a choke-hold, a sleeper-hold like that, you dig your hands into the arm constricting the artery and you make a small degree of space. Don’t try to dislodge them entirely – it will only tip them off to what you’re up to. Once you’ve made the space, tuck your chin against your chest – that will defeat the purpose or power of any on-coming choke. Take one step to the side and back so that you can get your leg behind theirs, then bend them at their knee – this sets them off-balance. Once they’re off-balance, you automatically have the upper-hand. You push out with the leg that’s behind them and with your unoccupied arm, you throw back the sharp of your elbow into their chest. That will effectively be pulling them to the ground by their legs and pushing them down to the ground by their chest. Takes just a moment. Who in this forsaken galaxy taught you beasts hand-to-hand? I’d like to have a word with them.”

Taori and most of the Knights laugh at that; all but Kylo, of course – most of them agree that they’d have preferred Hux be their instructor and, batting away the flattery as if it were bugs too near his ears, Hux then orders Corr to the mats.

Corr is slimmer, but there is no excuse for how easily they are thrown over Hux’s hip. It’s quick, but Kylo watches every motion Hux makes; Corr is only just raising his arms and Hux’s left hand, at lightning speed, grabs at Corr’s right wrist, he pulls Corr forward, planting a firm right hand on Corr’s far shoulder. He takes a single step with his right leg, so he and Corr are hip-to-hip, then he aligns the jut of his hip just under Corr’s, bending at his knees just so. He wraps his right leg behind Corr’s left, calf-to-calf and then makes a full-body turn, taking Corr off the ground, over his hip and following through the motion until Corr is splayed on their back with a loud huff of surprise.

There are so many motions involved, but it all happens in the blink of an eye. Hux’s agility is his most major weapon and Kylo is unsure of what that means for him.

Corr doesn’t stay down long enough for Hux to technically win the round – they spar for much longer and Corr only uses a Force trick when Hux has got him compromised in all other areas. Corr’s spar with Hux takes the longest and by the end of it, Hux is actually, visibly tired. He uses Corr’s Force tricks to what advantages he can (he brags that this is what he means by 'improvised weapons' training) and the fight ends when Hux incapacitates Corr’s arms.

“You see, this here is what we call unarmed joint manipulation with enhanced pain compliance,” Hux explains to the Knights, as if this were a lecture hall; Corr’s arm tightly secured under Hux’s, he adds, “Let’s see if they comply, shall we?”

His free hand goes to Corr’s shoulder and presses down while the crux of his arm flexes around Corr’s forearm, bending it upward. There’s an audible crack and Quix’s eyes go wide; Hux rolls his own at Quix and says, “relax, I haven’t broken anything yet. I literally just cracked his joint.”

Turning to face Corr again, Hux asks, “you’ve an opportunity to accept defeat with dignity and surrender. Are you ready to comply?”

Corr shakes his head and Hux tsk’s again, “shame.”

He strengthens his hold, pushing down on Corr’s shoulder and pulling up with his forearm; just as another audible crack resonates, Corr lets out a strangled noise and Hux asks again if he’s willing to comply. Corr doesn’t answer right away – he’s contemplating it, but he hesitates too long and Hux snaps Corr’s arm with a sickening, splintering pop.

After admitting defeat, Corr is healed by Sol (who first takes two full minutes to admire Hux’s handiwork) and then Hux stands before them, hands on his hips and sweating lightly, only a few hairs out of place and a single bruise on his left-side jaw.

“Well, this has been enlightening,” Hux tells them, “Now, if you’re all satisfied, I’d like to get back to work.”

The plain, unimpressed-bordering-on-angry expression that spreads over Hux’s face when Kylo stands only incites Kylo more.

“ _I’m_ not satisfied,” Kylo announces, walking towards him, “Why do you think I was appointed the leader of the Knights of Ren? I am stronger than them. Better. You will face me. Now. You will see real power - more than simple little tricks and trips. And you _will_ submit."

Hux's upper lip twitches like he might want to sneer, but he resists the urge. He cracks his own back, making Corr wince and rub unconsciously at his still-aching arm and then he twists his neck either way with more popping and crackling. He meets Kylo at the center of the mats and says in a dangerous gravel, "I submit to no one. And if ever I did, I'd sooner die than submit to _you_."

"That can be arranged," Kylo mutters back.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: There's vague mention of sexual assault and the actual use of the word "rape," in conversation.  
> This entire scene is intensely violent, regarding the dehumanization of Hux's past traumas and the emotional attack he delivers onto Kylo. Please read carefully.

If Kylo’s Force powers were not already an enormous advantage, he was glad too to be fighting Hux at his most fatigued. He had sparred with all the other Knights in rapid succession – impressive as it was, it was still demanding and now his arms shake as he jabs, his legs tremble with the strain to maintain his grace and agility. 

He pulls out all the stops for Kylo, though; with Kylo, for Hux, it would appear the fight and pride is much more personal.

With Kylo, he charges at full speed to attack, ducks at the waist and the knees to evade and halfway through the fight, he gets some good air, leaping, spinning and slamming his shin against Kylo’s head with so much force, Kylo’s helmet flies across the room.

Kylo can feel how the Knights instinctively want to come to his defense but also know not to interfere – that something more than a friendly spar is occurring. Some fight for territory or dominance is happening between Hux and Kylo – a fight that has been shelved for too long and now every pent up anxiety and frustration associated with the other is perfecting their form and shaping them into deadlier weapons than usual.

Every time Kylo thinks he has the upper-hand, Hux springs back to his feet with a second, third and fourth wind. He sweats, he curses and seethes, but he is fluid and every inch forward or back takes miles – at some point, they find themselves standing, huffing, defensive stances ready, legs spread at shoulder’s width and Hux changes strategy. 

Kylo only sees a shift in Hux’s eyes without knowing fully what it means.

“Go ahead, _General_ ,” Kylo hisses, “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I try to protect you from these things, Ren, I really do,” Hux breathes out, his eyes sparkling, his hair all undone and mussed. He looks a little feral.

“I hardly need protecting from you,” Kylo responds assuredly.

“You’re so sure of that, are you?” Hux asks.

“More than,” Kylo sneers back.

There’s a single pause.

“You are a loathsome, abhorrent, repugnant and repulsive worm of a man,” Hux snaps back, his canines reminding Kylo of the snake he always sees Hux as, “You delude yourself – convince yourself you’re remarkable when really, you’re nothing. You’re _nothing_ , Ren.”

This is the one element of Hux’s training Kylo has yet to see him use; the psychological attack. He had said something about offensive psychological attacks in his spout about S.C.A.R.S, as Kylo remembers but he’d not used it on any of the other Knights. 

Kylo smirks, thinking that this must mean that Hux is out of physical weaponry and strength – that all he has left is insults, grasping at straws in the hopes of draining Kylo of his drive.

There is no way for Kylo to know that Hux hoards this weapon, only uses it when absolutely necessary and that it certainly isn’t meant to end a fight; Hux wants Kylo to show his hand and this is how he makes it happen. 

He wants to see what Kylo has left in him, what is _his_ greatest weapon – will it be some quick assault that Hux will out-maneuver, will it be some mind trick Hux will have the mental fortitude to resist or will it be some Force choke, meant to threaten him? Tug on the right threads, push the right buttons, unfold the right memories and the enemy won’t be able to resist resorting to their truest strength – the one card they ought to play last at any cost. Hux needs to know exactly what that card is.

Kylo thinks that because he has played this game – this game of the past six standard years – so close to his chest that Hux could not possibly know anything about him. Kylo is a smart man, but he is not as observant as Hux. Hux took one look at Kylo the day they first met and knew what words he’d store away for this very moment. Hux is a good fighter, but he makes for a better phantom – insidious, lingering, haunting and ominous. More like a bad dream than a solid person.

“Is that so?” Kylo asks playfully, thinking Hux has nothing on him.

“Very,” Hux answers certainly, eyes never leaving Kylo’s, “You’re descendent from fair royalty and pious men, but you inherited none of their good graces. Your unyielding childishness keeps you from politics, your ugly and innate sense of entitlement keeps you from enforcing equality anywhere, much less the place you called home as a child. And what a nightmarish child you made – as dangerous and charming as a junkyard dog with no sense of loyalty and they sent you away, didn’t they? They sent you off into the void with nothing because they couldn’t stand you and you can’t bear to face how right they are about your worthlessness, so you find power-hungry bureaucrats like Snoke to validate your delusions of grandeur, trying to compensate for what you know you’re not and what you know you’ll never be.”

Kylo has stopped moving – it feels as if his vision is blurring at the edges and all he can see clearly are the sharp, silver blades in Hux’s eyes. Hux doesn’t stop moving, though. He circles Kylo like a prowling, nocturnal thing meant only to maim and bleed out whatever it snags between too-sharp canines. 

“All you have is Vader,” Hux says simply and Kylo _sees red_.

“Stop.”

“What? It’s true, isn’t it?” Hux taunts, his aura shifting in dark, smoky hues, unreadable and unfeeling, “All you have – all you’ve ever had – is the untrained power of Darth Vader in your blood, but you’ll never be as powerful as him, no matter how long or hard you train and you know it and Snoke knows it and your Knights know it and I do too because it’s so bloody obvious.”

“ _Stop_ ,” Kylo demands angrily.

“Why should I?” Hux shouts back, eyes going wide as he circles closer to Kylo, “Why not lay it all out, Ren? You think I don’t see you? I see you. I see you and I have always seen you. And you want that, in a way – you want to be seen for what you’d like to be, but you’ll never be that someone. You are who you have always been – a mistake everyone tried their damnedest to undo – a great big temper for a great big beast no one could love despite trying and your mother – she tried, didn’t she? She tried so hard to love for who you were – are – and always will be. Not even a princess, friend to all the galaxy, could find room or pity enough in her heart for the _likes of you_ –“

“ ** _Enough_**!”

“You couldn’t find love, you couldn’t earn it, you never deserved it because you’re too little, too empty, too selfish and then you found power – power reminiscent of Darth Vader but not quite and what a pity! What a pity that you’ll never be him, that you’ll never amount to more than the Not-Jedi-Not-Sith Knight of a non-existent king who sort of, sometimes, very _barely_ resembles his late grandfather who everyone so clearly wants to trade you in for – you gave the reigns of your incompetent mind to Snoke because you thought if you couldn’t find love, at least you could have power and now you live with the knowledge that you will never, _never_ know true power. Not like he did. You’ll never have it because you’re not him. Not even close and you never will be. All you’ll ever be is the unwanted son of a bastard thief and a princess who had room for all the goddamn galaxy in her heart but could find no room for you – tell me I’m not right on every count – go ahead, I dare you, _Solo_.”

Kylo’s energy crackles like lightning through the conditioned air and just as Hux smirks triumphantly, knowing he’s made Kylo show his hand, just as he’s about to soak in a victory Kylo will never know he’s had – Kylo reaches for his lightsaber, ignites it and comes after him swinging.

Hux is able to avoid being slashed to bits, ducking, swerving and tripping backwards until he’s able to scramble for a titanium rod used in sword training, but all it does is delay what is inevitable – the lightsaber eats away at the rod until there’s little but a handle left and when Kylo has Hux’s back against the wall, he closes in. His lightsaber is a hot blaze, much too close to Hux’s skin; a burning hot, wordless threat.

There is a quiet moment in which Hux thinks Kylo has calmed down a fraction, has had his outburst and is now coming down from it – he couldn’t be more wrong. When his eyes meet Kylo’s, all he finds is obsidian black looking back at him. Invisible energies push and pull at Hux as he’s shoved up the wall and his airways become more and more constricted.

Kylo doesn’t slip into Hux’s mind as much as he uses his power like a battering-ram to crash through the front of Hux’s skull and drive his way inside.

“Aurelien,” Kylo mutters, “What a sweet name for such a hateful viper.”

Hux’s panic rises, his chest tightens and he kicks against the wall as his head nears the ceiling, “get _out of my head_ , Ren! Get the _fuck out of my head_!”

“Dead mother, unimpressed father, superior brother now deceased – stars, could you be more dull or predictable?” Kylo goads.

“ _Ren_! I _mean_ it! Get _the fuck_ out of my _head_!” Hux shouts, his throat compressing all the more he struggles, “I didn’t use any fucking _tricks_ to know who you are! _Get out_!”

“Oh, so weak, so fragile – thin and pale as a scrap of parchment and about as useful too – is that what your father has said? Does he say it still? Is that why it’s so fresh in your mind? You don’t fear him, but you fear what he’s made you do – what he can make you do again –“

“ _Ren_ , god _damn it_ , **_get out_**! _Get the fuck out of **my head**_!” Hux screams, pain splintering across his skull the more he tries to get Kylo out, making his head feel heavy and bruised, concussed almost, “ _Get out_!”

“No love in the whole universe for a weakling like you, so plain, so ordinary and I couldn’t agree more,” Kylo mocks coldly, “And what of this boy that claimed you? You haven’t touched a soul since – haven’t let a soul touch you either. Did it really hurt so much?”

Unintentionally and involuntarily, tears begin to stream down Hux’s reddening face and he kicks violently against the wall, holding his closed-off throat, his voice reduced to a hoarse whisper, “get – get out…”

“So, it was rape?” Kylo asks, uninspired and eerily apathetic, “That’s what made you the micro-managing psychopath you are now? That’s _it_? You think you’re so special, you’re just another brick in the wall! You realize I was training in _depravation chambers_ at that age, right? You realize that while you were getting shoved into by some other politician’s son, I was being _chosen_ – chosen because _I_ actually _am_ special. Stars knows _I’d_ have been strong enough to stop him.”

Hux gasps and more tears fall from his eyes as he loses his breath. Kylo can feel how deeply that insult cuts and he digs his claws into that open wound.

“You hate yourself for it,” Kylo observes, “You have yourself for not putting up a stronger fight. Being so caught off-guard. You hate how weak you were. You should too. You just took down six Knights of Ren, but you couldn’t defend yourself from some seventeen year old with an obsessive streak? You are as weak and useless as your father warned. Clearly he was just trying to give you some insight on yourself. Men like you never do care to learn about things from others they don’t already know about themselves.”

Very suddenly, Kylo’s lightsaber is in Quix’s hands, Corr, Daska, Taori and Zekk pool their energies to break Kylo’s control over Hux and Sol comes running to catch Hux as he falls from ten feet in the air. Sol secures a safe landing for Hux, even though Hux still doubles over and collapses once he gets to the mats.

Kylo’s eyes return to their normal color and he watches as Hux, on hands and knees, body blotchy-red all over, coughs and struggles to inhale properly. Sol’s hands soothe over his back – Kylo’s energies are still so twisted up with Hux’s that he can feel Hux’s stomach roiling. 

“Let me heal you, General,” Sol offers kindly, softly, “I swear, I will not bring harm to you.”

“Give me back my saber,” Kylo demands, not even looking at Quix, just outstretching his hand expectantly.

“No.”

“I am _trying_ to teach him a lesson –“ Kylo snaps, turning to glare at Quix, but his eyes are immediately dragged back to Sol when Sol shouts at him, “no, you’re _trying_ to _kill_ him!”

Hux’s back arches, he coughs a few more times and then he sits up to his knees and Sol’s hands flutter nearby, unsure of how to help. 

Seeing Hux’s tear-stained face, red from his strangling and memory-pulling is much different than feeling it through the Force. 

It’s unsettling to say the least.

“Would you like me to wipe your memory of this event, General?” Sol offers gently, “I’m good at memory removal. It wouldn’t hurt.”

“No,” Hux croaks back, not looking to Sol, but straight up into Kylo’s eyes.

He never has been scared of meeting someone’s stare.

Kylo loathes him all the more.

“It’s pertinent that I remember this,” Hux explains, “I never suspected there was so much of a modicum of humanity left in him, but now I know that with certainty and that’s worth remembering.”

There’s a beat of silence and then Sol asks, even more softly, “can I help you up?”

“No, no,” Hux denies politely, struggling to his feet, “Allow me this dignity.”

Kylo huffs a hateful laugh and mutters, “you haven’t had your dignity since you were seventeen.”

Even the red blotches of blush pale dramatically on Hux’s skin – he looks physically ill and Kylo feels the weight of all the Knights’ eyes on him.

They disapprove. Strongly.

“I need a wash,” Hux mumbles to himself, starting towards the pile of his clothes – Sol follows him.

“Please, General – please tell me how to help.”

Hux shuts his eyes, breathes in – the air rattles unsteadily down his windpipe and when he opens his eyes again, they are devoid of emotion. His guards are up – higher than they’ve ever been. Kylo has never actually seen Hux shut down so quickly and efficiently before. He’d be impressed if he weren’t so busy hating every fiber of Hux’s being.

“You are kind, Sol,” Hux comments, as if Sol were an anomalous flower of unlikely beauty, “I’d have liked to co-command with you.”

Kylo thought this was precisely the type of compliment Sol has been hungry for; Sol’s eyes only become unbearably sad, though. He takes Hux’s shoulders, touching him with care and caution. He leans his forehead against Hux’s and inhales deeply for eight beats and then out for ten. When he pulls away, drops his hands, Hux’s eyes open and a forgotten tear slips from his right eye, down his cheek and off his jaw.

Everyone pretends not to notice it, but Hux genuinely seems not to feel it as it falls.

“What… I’m… very warm… what did you just do?”

“Your blood,” Sol answers, smiling weakly, “You run cold. No amount of exercise seems to do the trick – your hereditary poor blood circulation keeps you cold. I’ve sped it up for you. I’ve wanted to do that since we met.”

At this, a small glimmer returns to Hux’s eyes and he almost smiles. Almost.

“That is remarkably thoughtful of you, Sol. Thank you.”

“It’s my honor,” Sol tells him sincerely.

With a nod of departure, Hux gathers up his clothes and leaves without another word. The remaining Knights turn to stare at Kylo and he glares at all of them.

“ _What_?” Kylo barks, “ _He_ played dirty first – it was all fair.”

“No,” Sol says firmly, fists clenching at his sides, “It was not fair and you know that, Master Kylo Ren. He played at your insecurities by use of deduction over the course of many years he’s spent watching you as a form of strategic offense. You _forced_ him to relive the greatest trauma of his life for the sake of your pride and then mocked him for the scars it left behind – forcing your way into his head the way that boy forced his body into his half a lifetime ago.”

“That’s not nearly the same thing –“

“Yes, it is,” Corr, Zekk and Daska all respond in unison.

Kylo spares a glance for those three and then scowls dangerously at Sol. He keeps his eyes on Sol as he reaches his arm out again, summoning his lightsaber back into his grasp. He hooks it onto his belt and doesn’t allow the small trickle of insecurity in him to be at all detectable.

“You’d do well to remember your place.”

No one openly replies to Kylo’s vague threat, no one stops him from leaving, but the tension is excruciatingly thick between them all and after that encounter, things change drastically and quickly.


	4. Chapter 4

It’s after the sparring event that the Knights, sometimes in pairs, sometimes all together, sometimes individually are asked to dinner by Hux. He never extends the invitation to Kylo and Kylo aggressively pretends not to notice. The Knights too begin following Hux into meetings and conferences that Kylo is not needed for; though he wonders what excuse Hux makes for having Knights of Ren at the table during high-clearance level briefings and debriefings, he tries not to think too much about it.

Sol and several of the other Knights take to calling him “Hux,” rather than “General,” or “sir.” Some of them start up with pats, brushes or other friendly, unremarkable touches – at least, they would be unremarkable if the person being touched were someone other than General Hux. The Knights are sometimes chivalrous and nearly obnoxiously polite or over-the-top gentlemanly and sometimes they’re very personal, liberal with touches and whispers and jokes. Hux doesn’t seem to mind either way. 

It doesn’t take long before Phasma takes a liking to them – certainly, at first, this is only because Hux has given them his seal of approval on them, but enough dinners, conferences and long cycle shifts spent with her and Hux and the Knights and her fondness for them takes on a friendly, trusting air. 

Hux keeps Sol, Corr and Quix’s company most. 

Kylo will often walk about the ship and find his Knights scattered, but at least one is always with Hux. If it’s only one, it’s always Sol. Typically, though, Hux has a small posse following him about, asking him about conferences, blueprints, finances, battle plans, training programs – trying to grasp an understanding of his work and his military history. Hux’s biting, sarcastic humor warms the Knights to him and they seem remorseful on Kylo’s behalf – they’re all very gentle with Hux and when Hux isn’t looking, they all give off apologetic feeds.

Kylo’s blood overheats at seeing these things and he hides away to meditate more frequently than he ever has before, finds more excuses to be gone than he’s ever needed in the past. 

The worst of it really starts when, for the first time, the Knights are all present for a conference with Snoke. Hux is there early (of course) and Kylo arrives on time with his Knights surrounding him. Rather than stand beside Kylo, though, they line up behind both Kylo and Hux, as if taking a second row to the enormous stage Snoke is sat upon.

Snoke asks several questions about the newest mass weapon Hux is designing, the growth of their army and the potential need for clones (which Hux takes offense to, but declines with social grace). Then Snoke announces that he’s got a planet-side mission for Hux – more bureaucrats that want an excuse to spend enormous amounts of credits on some over-lit, gaudy get-together for the sake of planning investments and building rapport. 

Snoke doesn’t necessarily force Hux’s cooperation – he implies, though, that Hux’s presence could go a long way in regard to future investments that the Order needs, still recovering financially from Starkiller.

When Hux, with grim resignation, accepts the bothersome journey, Sol quickly offers to go with him.

Every head turns.

“Why would you go with him?” Snoke asks, though not unkindly or sarcastically.

“He is a wanted man,” Sol supplies as a weak excuse, “Wealthy families and friends to the Order and Empire there may be, but people that want to harm him too. I would be all too glad to travel beside the General and to keep him secure.”

Kylo, through his helmet, chances a glance at Hux only to find him staring straight ahead with blushing cheekbones. 

Snoke readjusts his seat and smirks down at Sol; “you’ve taken quite a liking to him, haven’t you?” 

“Very much, Supreme Leader,” Sol responds honestly, “My intentions are not entirely selfless.”

The red staining Hux’s cheeks deepens.

“No one’s intentions are ever entirely selfless,” Snoke offers as sage advice.

Some eyes fall onto Hux, but he doesn’t move an inch or breathe a word.

Snoke gives pause, maybe to give Hux an opportunity to decline Sol’s offer himself, but when no opposition comes, Snoke waves a dismissive hand and says, “fine. You have my permission to accompany the General.”

Just as Sol nods determinedly, excitement glowing from him like a warm ember and Hux’s head tips down, a small, shy beginning of a smile growing, Kylo glares and turns his attention to his Master.

“ _I_ am Hux’s Knight. If anyone is accompanying him to anything for the sake of his safety, it should be me.”

Snoke raises a wrinkled brow and opens his mouth, but Sol beats him to it; “Master Kylo Ren is unfit to protect the General.”

The silence that falls is leaden and dangerous – in all the years Hux and Kylo have stood in this hall and faced Supreme Leader Snoke, the air has never been so choked. Hux’s jugular bounces against his collared shirt (Kylo has noticed that ever since Hux accepted Sol’s company, he’s been wearing less layers – even rolling up his sleeves – beginning to run warm more regularly) and Kylo’s hand twitches toward his saber.

“Unfit?” Snoke asks, intrigued, “How so?”

“He is a danger to the General,” Sol responds readily, “During a recent sparring match, he very nearly and intentionally made an attempt on the General’s life – had Quix Ren not procured his lightsaber, the General might not be standing before us now.”

To attack Sol would only serve to further Sol’s agenda and that thought is the only thing that keeps Kylo from twisting around and beheading Sol where he stands. His rage must be palpable, though – Sol knows what he’s done and though Kylo senses no fear coming from Sol, he thinks Sol _ought_ to fear him.

“If Kylo Ren is unfit to serve as General Hux’s partner, what do you suggest my course of action be?” Snoke interviews, as if this were a fun social experiment.

“I offer myself as an immediate substitute,” Sol answers, steeling himself and presenting an answer that is obviously rehearsed, “I realize that Master Kylo Ren’s powers are great and to partner him with a man as powerful and high-ranking as General Hux during active wartime makes sense, but I know too that his powers and time could be put to good use elsewhere – at times and in places you would like for him to be. If you are inclined to consider it, Supreme Leader, all the Knights but Master Kylo Ren have agreed that we would gladly remain aboard the _Finalizer_ and devote our loyalties to the General. This would offer him full command of the ship as he has long desired, unshared by equals, but fully protected and with Force-users at his beck and call if need be.”

Kylo’s teeth grind tightly, winding his jaw uncomfortably, making his whole skull ache. The inside of his head feels a lot like sandpaper.

 _When_ had all the Knights agreed to this? Clearly, Hux didn’t know they’d discussed this – he seems to be just as shocked by Sol’s suggestions as Kylo is. Though normally he might, Kylo isn’t inclined to blame Hux for his Knights’ insubordination. 

“To further Kylo Ren’s training _would_ be beneficial…” Snoke thinks aloud.

Kylo panics momentarily – painfully, sincerely and inexplicably unnerved at the thought of being forcibly removed from his station on the _Finalizer_. At the thought of having his role stripped from him; he was once the sole – the one and only – Knight of Ren fit for General Hux. Hux has a temper to match his own, he’s just as lethal without Force sensitivity and his ego is just as inflated as Kylo’s. 

As painful as it is to admit, they match each other well. Both Kylo and Hux are ruthless, unforgiving, highly dangerous tyrants – they simply have opposing temperaments. Hux is a master of the intellectual and physical realms while Kylo is a master of the emotional and spiritual realms. They are _meant_ to be together.

That thought strikes Kylo so suddenly, it’s dizzying, but it feels _true_ – he cannot imagine another Knight or anyone, really, taking his place next to Hux. He feels he has fought for this seat, he has bled and sweat, trained, been torn and rebuilt, endured all form of test and trial to have his seat next to General Hux’s. Whether they got along or not – he felt he’d earned the right to be beside Hux, no matter how he treated the man.

Then again, Sol would not have left Starkiller base in search of vengeance or furthering his powers. He would not have strayed from Hux’s orders to stay near, he would not have wandered so far from base that Hux would have had to risk his life in order to secure his. Sol would not have been the loose thread that undid Hux’s decade of engineering.

“I will meditate on it,” Snoke answers vaguely, “For the time being, I assign you watch over General Hux. If you feel Kylo Ren is a real threat to the General’s well-being, then you are to act appropriately and contact me immediately.”

“Yes, Supreme Leader,” Sol says gratefully, bowing his head.

“And you?”

“Sorry?” Hux asks.

“Do you have any questions, comments or oppositions to what’s been instated?” Snoke inquires.

“Oh – no,” Hux replies, uncharacteristically flustered, “It’s – this is fine.”

“…General.”

Hux lifts his eyes to Snoke’s and Snoke scrutinizes him closely.

“Do _you_ feel that Kylo Ren is a danger to you?”

A few moments of silence pass before Hux straightens his back, closes off his expression and answers eloquently, “I feel that Kylo Ren _wishes_ to be a danger to me, but I have never feared him and that holds true to this day. He has not caused me any suffering I’ve not experienced before.”

Kylo’s stomach churns in an unprecedented way at Hux’s tone of voice; it is not proud or angry, but resigned. As if Hux had higher hopes for Kylo – as if he had expected Kylo to be above or other than what he has encountered before. 

As if what Kylo did during that sparring match was somehow the same as what that boy did to Hux in his adolescence – 

His heart sinks painfully.

“Very well. All of this will be taken into account. Everyone but Sol Ren and General Hux are free to go. The itinerary for your trip will be disclosed here and now.”

The Knights leave and their conflicted energies, while in alignment with Sol’s actions are also leaned towards Kylo – waiting on him, lingering by the doorway, waiting for direction. Kylo silently dismisses them and they disperse down the halls, leaving him to his contemplations and all of them seeming rather worried about it.

Left alone with his thoughts, all Kylo has to work with is the knowledge that he has irrevocably destroyed his already weak trust with Hux, that Hux wouldn’t mind him dead or alive, that Sol is – in most ways – more suited to be Hux’s partner (in more ways than one) and the fact that he may find himself far and away from the _Finalizer_ for good. 

He might be driven from the _Finalizer_ , from Hux and the ship he has learned to call home all because he couldn’t let his pride be wounded in audience with his Knights – all because he couldn’t control his temper. All because he sabotaged himself like he has his entire life.

He thinks that it wasn’t worth it – to satisfy his rage and break and enter into Hux’s mind and dark, long-held memories. Running this risk – had he known that’s what he was doing at the time – wasn’t worth the brief, fleeting satisfaction that hurting Hux brought him that work cycle so many before.

Unable to sleep that late sleep cycle, consumed with his thoughts of being replaced, of regret, his loss of humanity and all the frustrating misdirection, Kylo wanders the ship. It’s not unlike him to do so; he’s quiet and light on his feet and the sleep cycle shifts have smaller staff numbers. That leaves him with mostly himself for company – unbothered by outside voices or intruders. 

The whole ship seems to slumber and in particular, the hangars are a comfortable place to contemplate in peace; there’s a good view of the stars and very few people in that section of the ship so late – so he heads down to engineering. Almost as soon as he enters the level, he hears Hux’s voice, though he can’t sparse what he’s saying and then he hears Daska’s voice. 

“So, that was your original job? Engineer?”

“Ah, in a sense,” Hux replies; his sleeves are rolled up and his collared shirt is unbuttoned and hanging open; he’s elbow-deep in the wiring of a TIE fighter, “When one goes to Officer’s school, it’s uhm – you have limited choices, in regard to job categorization. So, I was formally schooled in continuum mechanics, aerospace and defense, nuclear engineering, theoretical physics and construction and building.”

“That sounds painfully complicated.”

Hux gives a small laugh and tugs off his dog tags with one soot and oil-dirtied hand, “here, there’s a generalized list of my specialties.”

“Hmm,” Daska starts, reading the tag up close, “Rank is “O” ten, Supervisor and C.D.I – specializations include Beast Riding, Aviation and Ordinance Engineering, Gunning, Advanced Infantry, Expert Sharpshooting, Heavy Weapons Specialist, Traffic Control and Special Forces.”

“That’s about the sum of it.”

“What does the “O” ten mean?”

“Just means I’m the highest rank an Officer can achieve,” Hux answers conversationally, scrunching his brow in a strangely endearing way as he reaches into the far back of a panel at an uncomfortable angle, “After that, all you can get is awards and more specializations.”

“You’ve certainly kept busy. You’re young to be so experienced.”

“I grew up in the Order,” Hux says in way of explanation, “I was training from the moment I could walk. I’m really no different than any other Officer here. All I got was a lucky head start.”

“So sure you would call that lucky?”

Hux moves his attention from the panel he’s working on to look back at Daska. He tilts his head at Daska and smiles weakly, “hand me that blue wire?”

When Daska does, he keeps Hux’s stare and tells him firmly, “what… what Master Kylo Ren did was unacceptable. I feel it must be said. I hope that you know this.”

“I’m the one that launched psychological warfare on a psychic,” Hux mentions, shrugging – his aura turns dark blue, though and that’s telling, much more telling than his steady voice and aloof expression, “I tread on him. He had every right –“

“He had no right. Not to that. Not to you – not that way.”

Hux blinks in surprise a few times and then his face softens again, “surely you have seen the flags and patches around here – they all read ‘don’t tread on me,’ and feature a diamondback rattlesnake. You’ve seen this image, right?”

“Yes,” Daska answers.

“What it means is that – to step, even accidentally, on that snake, means risking its justified retaliation. He warned me not to tread on him – I did, with the full knowledge of who it was I was staring down. He sank his fangs into me. He warned me – told me to back off several times – hissed at me. Rattled. I didn’t listen. If you feel any secondhand guilt, I encourage you to shed it. I justify his actions against me – if no one is willing to validate him, I will. I tread on him and he tread on me right back.”

“You carry this sadness,” Daska tells him, gesturing at him vaguely, meaning to explain without words that Hux’s spirit is saturated with indigo and jade almost all the time, “You embarrassed him – he tortured you. There must be a difference. I fail to see the equality.”

“Some people are just born with tragedy in their bones,” Hux says in response, “I’ve always had a sadness about me. I keep living. And I won’t lie – the bite hurt, the retaliation was… infinitely terrible. I know better now. A new bite, a new scar, a new story – I keep living. That’s all. I keep living.”

There is a meaningful pause where they only look at one another and Kylo can tell Daska is resisting the urge to slip into Hux’s mind and read his carefully protected thoughts; Kylo knows that urge all too well.

“I am a friend to you in need, Hux. You are a brave man and though I wish the best for Master Kylo Ren, I do rather hope I will stay aboard the _Finalizer_ with you. I hate this conflict – the wish to stand beside you and Master Kylo Ren. I only wish it meant the same thing.”

Hux settles a friendly hand on Daska’s shoulder and he replies kindly, “I’m a friend to you too, Daska. Thank you.”

They continue talking about the wiring ‘gripe,’ at hand – Hux makes Daska laugh and Kylo, numbly, walks away, back towards his quarters. 

It might be that he hasn’t slept and so his brain is short-circuiting, but all he can think of on a maddening repeat is what it might sound like to have Hux call Kylo his friend. To place his hand on Kylo with no intention of hurting him, but with the hopes that the sincerity of his claim will land powerfully. 

Kylo wonders what it is like, then, to be Hux’s friend.


	5. Chapter 5

Sleep cycles are suddenly difficult to actually rest through after that. 

Kylo wonders briefly if the Knights are pooling their energies and keeping him up out of spite, but he knows that’s not right; he’d feel that and typically speaking, he’s stronger than the lot of them put together. He’d feel it and he’d be able to break whatever they were casting over him. He’d be able to identify it and destroy it. And they’re more loyal than that, despite their recent transgressions – he’s not angry at them. Not anymore, anyway.

He understands, in a way.

They were in awe of Hux – an ‘ordinary’ man capable of destroying the Hosnian System, aloof and unafraid of their combined lethality – then they saw he was a bit more mortal, still had flesh to bruise and cut, bones to break and pores to sweat, but still _capable_. And he is, which is infuriating – he’s capable, he’s intellectual, he’s strategic, daring, cool, decisive, loyal and he’s a natural born leader. 

Kylo is not. He never was – he’s unstable at the best of times and then Hux appears, this beacon of guidance, surety and competence. Of course the Knights are drawn to him. 

Of course.

Hux offers stability, consistency, vast knowledge and the ruthlessness they all identify with.

Kylo knows people think his temper defines his emotional maturity, but that’s not really the case. He’s rather good at seeing outside himself when he tries to. He’s just never tried to with Hux. He never thought Hux was worth much thought.

He thinks then, that a leader with dignity – one more self-assured, a leader like Hux, would apologize to Hux for that attack on his mind. Reason provides that if he wants his Knights to recognize him as a better, improving or at least acceptable leader in comparison to Hux, he needs to make that apology. 

He’s got to mean it too; the Knights could smell insincerity from five miles away. 

The issue being that he’s not sure he _can_ mean it – he feels this burning in the pit of his stomach when he imagines Hux. He cringes at the thought – surrounded by his Knights, _apologizing_ to Hux and seeing that incensing, _smug_ look on his face – 

Kylo isn’t sure he can give Hux that satisfaction. 

_Exposure_ – more exposure to Hux might be helpful, the back of his mind supplies. He’s spent these past few years avoiding Hux when he can, but perhaps that was counterproductive. If he shows his Knights his willingness to cooperate, to improve, maybe… 

He sighs and rubs at his forehead, scratching at where the thin line of his facial scar ends.

Before he can think too much about it, he punches zero-zero-nine into his personal comm.

It barely gets through the first beep.

Hux’s voice is raspy – sleeping – that’s right, he was sleeping, because everyone is supposed to be sleeping – it’s just that his voice sounds different. Kylo doesn’t know why that makes the inside of his chest squirm – the sound. That hoarse, sleepy sound. Maybe because it’s a side of Hux Kylo doesn’t know – a sleepy, just-dreaming side Kylo barely registered as possible before. He never considered that Hux was a person who dreamed or could be startled awake.

He sort of, a bit unrealistically, admittedly, imagined that Hux was just _born_ General Hux; wide awake, irritated, demanding and (at times) shrill. As if he just popped into existence, six feet and two inches tall, full of cynicism and discipline so sharp, work ethic so strong, he might be mistaken for a very advanced droid.

He isn’t a droid, though. He’s a man. Not quite ordinary, but a man. A man who sleeps, whose larynx vibrates in different ways depending on the hour.

It’s a strange revelation.

“General Hux speaking, where –“

“I need to see you.”

There’s a long pause – so long, actually, that Kylo worries he’s been hung up on. He’s about to ask for Hux by name again, to see if that was the case, but then Hux speaks; “I get five very precious hours of sleep per work cycle, Ren. If you’re not actively dying, you better have a damn impressive reason for me to climb out of this bed.”

“Let me see you.”

“For what purpose?”

“Please.”

That does it.

It’s a word that slips out entirely involuntarily, but it does the trick; Hux is shocked into compliance. He’s never heard Kylo ask for anything politely and Kylo isn’t sure why he’s this desperate at all, really – it might be the cycles without sleep taking their toll on him, but he doubts that. He really does want to see Hux – maybe he just wants to get this over with and so he’s willing to plead or maybe he needs more time to analyze himself.

“Say that again.”

Kylo stares up at the ceiling, shuts his eyes and says quietly, “let me see you, please.”

“… it’s really so important?”

“Yes.”

“Fine. Where do you need to meet me?”

“Can I come to your quarters?”

Another long pause.

He’d like to know what Hux is thinking during these tense silences, but throwing his mind down the corridors into Hux’s would only exacerbate the existing problems and asking him what he’s thinking is not an option. 

Kylo swallows roughly and his chest constricts tightly.

“I won’t hurt you.”

More silence.

“Hux?”

“My door will be open. Make it quick, Ren.”

Turning off the comm, Kylo doesn’t bother with a shirt or shoes – it would take too much time. He rushes to Hux’s quarters on bare feet and only a minute later he finds himself in front of Hux’s opened door.

He looks inside, a bit breathless and sees Hux’s silhouette against his viewport. Kylo can’t see his face – he’s all a dark shadow, outlined by passing nebulae, but he can tell when Hux’s head turns to face him.

He’s standing with crossed arms and Kylo steps inside, very deliberately choosing not to shut the door behind him so that Hux doesn’t feel trapped.

By the strange glistening in Hux’s eyes, he can tell Hux notices the gesture. Hux notices everything, though.

When he’s in enough light to see Hux’s face properly, he’s got his Appraising Look on. Another one of the many Kylo has catalogued in his memory. He is still unafraid of Kylo and Kylo has no idea what to do with that information; he partially hates that Hux is unafraid of him, but he can’t deny that he’s impressed. Maybe Hux has a death wish. 

“What do you want?”

Taking a deep, measured breath, Kylo bows his head, cracks the knuckles of his twitchy hands and mutters, “to apologize.”

_Don’t react to the smugness, just let it happen. Don’t react. He will surely speak of this to the Knights, he will comment on how uncharacteristic it is to receive an apology from me, they will know about it through him – that will be more dignified and less staged and it will have been relatively painless. Just let it happen._

“For what?”

Hux, to Kylo’s ire, sounds genuinely confused.

“For dredging terrible memories of yours to the surface and invading your mind. No matter what you said when we sparred, that was… what I did to you was uncalled for. I apologize.”

The quiet that falls between them is more than irritating – it’s anxiety-provoking. Kylo can’t even tell why. He picks his head up, ready to face Hux’s annoying smugness, but instead, he finds rather wide eyes. Pink lips parted just a touch. 

He’s surprised.

Kylo is rather sure he’s never seen Hux surprised like this before – caught off-guard, certainly, offended or unexpectedly pleased, yes, but he’s never seen this thoughtlessly Surprised Look.

“I… accept?” Hux says uncertainly, sounding – bizarre, really, “…your apology? I… have you endured any recent head injuries?”

Kylo rolls his eyes at that, “no, I’m just –“

_“So, it was rape? That’s what made you the micro-managing psychopath you are now? That’s **it**? You think you’re so special, you’re just another brick in the wall! You realize I was training in **depravation chambers** at that age, right? You realize that while you were getting shoved into by some other politician’s son, I was being **chosen** – chosen because **I** actually **am** special. Stars knows **I’d** have been strong enough to stop him. You hate yourself for it. You hate yourself for not putting up a stronger fight. Being so caught off-guard. You hate how weak you were. You should too…”_

Wincing, Kylo finds that he very much means it. 

He does. 

He means it before he knows he fully means it. 

His fists unclench, his shoulders fall and his brow unfurrows. He can’t look Hux in the eyes right at that moment, so he stares at Hux’s tank-clad chest. He can see the bumps of his dog tags underneath the cloth and he wonders idly if Hux ever actually removes them.

“I’m just sorry… I’m sorry.”

There’s a brief pause and then, beyond all reason, Kylo hears Hux’s voice rise to string together impossible words that he finds, beyond all rational thought, comforting; “…I forgive you.”

Kylo picks his eyes up at that – looks right into Hux’s because he needs to know if that’s honest or he’s just wearing his Trying-To-Be-Civil-Despite-Wanting-To-Throttle-You Look. 

He’s not, though.

He’s wearing a look Kylo’s never seen. He doesn’t know how to classify it.

An Earnest Look? Trying – Honest-To-Stars-Trying Look? Open-To-Possibility Look? 

Kylo can’t tell. He’ll file it away for later, meditate on it, put it in its rightful slot somewhere in the back of his mind at another time – for now, he just memorizes and admires it.

“You do?”

Hux gives a curt nod and adds, “I… really went for the jugular with you. I know you don’t need me telling you this, but, for the record – you’re not nothing.”

_“You delude yourself – convince yourself you’re remarkable when really, you’re nothing. You’re **nothing** , Ren.”_

“How do you suppose that?” Kylo asks, unsure why.

He’s not sure what he wants Hux to say. He’s just not ready to leave the room yet or for the conversation to be over. Kylo doesn’t remember the last time he was just – himself. Raw, unfiltered, genuine and seen. He can’t remember the last time he said something that mattered – that really mattered – and he can’t remember the last time he heard something that really mattered either. 

This matters, somehow.

“Well,” Hux smirks, “you were partnered with _me_. Can’t mean nothing, can it?”

It’s Hux clapping himself on his own damn back – it’s half a joke, really, it’s self-serving, it’s meant to make Kylo admit that Hux is just as, if not more, remarkable than Kylo is. It is unexpectedly endearing.

Kylo smiles down at his feet and says, “right.”

“Truce, then?”

Kylo looks up to find Hux’s hand extended to him.

Hux’s arms are long as his legs – his torso is so slender – his entire body is so lithe, Kylo has to wonder where all his strength is pooled. It shouldn’t make sense that Hux alone could hip-throw a Knight of Ren and render one so useless that they’d fall into a sleeper-hold that they couldn’t get out of. Hux doesn’t make much sense, really, at all. 

He’s too young to be a General, frankly too handsome as well, he’s too remarkable to be ordinary, he’s too cold to be so quickly forgiving, but he radiates honesty. Hux is more like a snake now than he ever has been – slim and lean but made only of dangerous strength and muscle, changeable to the point of unpredictability, unlikely in his very existence.

That hand outstretched is so improbable, it’s difficult to comprehend. 

Kylo grabs on and finds that it’s no competition of physical strength – Hux’s hand is sure, but loose in a way, truly friendly, trusting. Forgiving. 

Rather abruptly, Kylo thinks to himself that he’d prefer the Knights not know about this at all. He’d prefer the Knights never know this happened. Damn what they think of him as a leader – he apologized to Hux, he managed to mean it and Hux found it in himself to honestly forgive him. 

This moment is tender – and that must be it. That must be why Kylo wants to keep it for himself and not share it with an audience. This moment is meant for himself and General Hux and he’d like to keep it that way. This one, unlikely, improbably, impossibly tender moment where what he says has mattered and what Hux has said matters and that is more lasting than any single conversation, any interrupted sleep cycle or lifetime. 

“Truce.”


	6. Chapter 6

“No, no, no. Never one-handed,” Hux’s chiding voice carries into the halls.

Abandoning the thoughts of the gym, Kylo reroutes and follows the sound, finding Sol, Daska and Quix standing around Hux as Hux arranges Sol’s hands around a blaster pistol, looking disgruntled (what Kylo privately refers to as Hux’s I’ve-Decided-You’re-An-Idiot-For-Not-Knowing-What-I-Know Look) with Sol’s apparent lack of arms knowledge.

There are silhouette-targets hanging from the ceilings, spaced from forty yards to two-hundred yards. The cavernous space isn’t the only reason Hux’s voice carried like that – the walls and ceilings are high, vaulted and it doesn’t quite echo, but something close to. Hux’s voice has the tendency to carry no matter where he is, though. Kylo sometimes believes that Hux’s larynx was crafted for the art of commanding. Once he speaks, there is simply no room for anything or anyone else.

Daska notices Kylo’s intrusion first and bows to him, silently welcoming him into the room. Quix follows quickly in gesture, but while Sol has noticed Kylo’s presence, he is very distracted with Hux’s hands on his own. Too much so to pay proper attention to Kylo as he closes in on the group.

Hux takes note of him, though.

“Greetings, Ren. I do hope you’re not to blame for your Knights’ collective inability to properly handle blasters or we will have words, you and I.”

The Knights smile to varying degrees and rather than erupting with insult as he may have before their ‘truce,’ Kylo breathes deeply and replies, “I’ve been more concerned with teaching them how to stall, dodge and change the trajectory of blaster fire more than I’ve been concerned with teaching them how to use one.”

Hux looks at Kylo through the corner of his eye and Kylo’s stomach jumps at the attention.

“Do you know how to handle one, then? Properly?”

“I can fire a blaster,” Kylo very nearly sneers – he doesn’t, but it’s a close thing.

Hux notices anyway. Hux notices everything.

He smirks, lets go of Sol’s hands, taking the blaster from his grasp and he walks toward Kylo with it. He sizes Kylo up as he often does when they’re standing too close together, but his energies are not combative. He’s not even his usual holier-than-thou self. His feedback is simply different. He’s feeling inquisitive, curious, almost glad for some reason – he has a new Look on.

The closest Kylo can come to categorizing it is Impish.

Hux is wearing an _Impish_ Look and that possibly should be unnerving, but it’s a little more thrilling than it is frightening. There must be a good reason for that, somewhere in the back of Kylo’s mind, but nothing justifiable comes to the forefront.

“Why don’t you join us?” Hux invites, “Perhaps I can enlighten you on how to maximize your blaster-use when it’s appropriate.”

Without preamble, Kylo extends his arm, spreading his hand expectantly; Kylo stares into Hux’s sparkling eyes, but the weight of the blaster doesn’t touch his palm. He doesn’t fully understand right away – he thinks that it’s unusual for Hux to rescind an invitation like that, he wonders briefly where their truce went, but when he meets Hux’s eyes, he sees no form of rejection.

“Rules first,” Hux announces – the message is meant for everyone, but he doesn’t take his stare from Kylo.

Things are tense between them, but not entirely unpleasant. Kylo finds he rather likes this type of tension, in fact – whatever kind it is. His heart kicks in his ribcage and his stomach tightens pleasantly at it. He’s defensive – still a little skittish, but this ‘truce,’ they’ve called has clearly been upheld on Hux’s end.

Kylo refuses to disappoint; once he’s made his acquiescence clear with a simple nod, Hux gives him a pleased nod back and switches the blaster pistol from his left to his right hand.

“First rule; you keep the safety on until you are preparing to open fire,” Hux instructs, all while switching the safety feature on and off as an example, though none of them are so helpless they don’t know how to manage the safety on a blaster.

Kylo supposes that Hux knows this too – he did mention that he was an expert sharpshooter, though and that he was qualified to teach armed and unarmed combat. Kylo supposes this lecture must be drilled into Hux’s head like a mantra and that to trim it or specialize it to a specific audience would go against Hux’s grain.

Poised as ever, Hux continues, “remember that there is never a justifiable reason for your weapon’s safety to be off unless you are planning on firing it. Second rule; you keep the barrel pointed _to the ground_ at _all times_ until you are lining the shot with your target – no waving it around carelessly or tucking it in clothes or places other than its holster – unless you’re interested in losing an eye and bits of flesh, that is.”

Quix gives a small laugh and Hux glances up at the sound before looking back down at the blaster and telling them, “in combat training, I once saw a cadet blow off half his arse because he was mucking around with his damn blaster pistol. So, for the sake of all our arses, I advise that you keep your barrel pointed to the ground unless you’d like to accidentally shoot something or someone. I’ve only got one hole in my backside and I’d like to keep it that way. That all clear so far?”

At the answering, positive murmur, Hux adds thoughtfully, “the third rule – and most important of them – is that you keep your _finger_ off that _trigger_ until you are ready to _shoot_. If all other rules are entirely forgotten or ignored, this one cannot be. Forget to put the safety on? Odds are you’ll hurt yourself before you hurt anyone else. Wave your gun around like a lunatic? I promise, you’ll get precisely what you deserve and the subsequent losses – accidental or not – will be of little concern to me. But you remember this well – keep your finger off the trigger until fire is imminent. Good?”

The direction of that question is at Kylo, although all in attendance respond to it.

Nodding, Kylo agrees to the stipulations before Hux hands over the firearm. Once it’s in his grasp, he moves towards the firing line. Standing tall and assuredly, he raises it in one hand and is immediately scolded – “no – never one-handed! Are you all just being obstinate on purpose? How do none of you know how to properly hold a pistol? You _always_ hold the blaster with both hands unless it’s impossible to do so.”

In particular, Kylo recalls once seeing Hux fire blaster pistols from _both_ hands as the two of them escaped a rather dire situation. Hux must have just been showing off and Kylo wants to call Hux out on his hypocrisy, but without any warning, Hux steps next to Kylo, pulling his arm up and molding his left hand around his right, surrounding the grip tightly.

Hux’s hands are immensely warm.

Hux moves Kylo’s thumbs so that they overlap each other at the high back of the grip.

“Keep your fore and middle finger straightened out against the trigger guard until you’re ready to fire,” Hux instructs patiently, “I know it feels natural to slip your forefinger into the provided space, but don’t do it until you’re ready to fire.”

“I won’t,” Kylo promises him, making a very conscious effort not to; really he’s too focused on how unexpectedly bereft he is when Hux takes his hands back to think more about it.

“Good,” Hux replies simply, “Pick a target and don’t fire until I tell you to.”

“Fine.”

There’s a brief pause while Kylo feels Hux’s eyes traipsing over him; he’s very tempted to turn his head and take in this new, titillating, Impish Look. Kylo would like to dedicate it to better memory because he finds he’s enjoying what that Look entails, but then the damned man speaks again, irritatingly perfect order and aplomb ever present.

“Spread your legs.”

“What?” Kylo asks, his ears hot.

He feels Hux’s hand come to pet the inside of his left thigh from behind and he stiffens nervously at the touch. Hux pushes until Kylo willingly parts his legs and he explains, “keep your feet shoulder-width apart and bend a bit at the knees. Widening your stance and lowering your center of gravity is always best for keeping steady. Tall men like us must accommodate in small ways like that.”

A quick read of the room’s feedback shows Sol’s infatuation with Hux’s competence and his jealousy of Kylo being intimately and patiently touched at by Hux. The mixture of positive and envious energies clashes strangely with the brotherly admiration, curiosity and surprise from Daska and Quix and that ridiculous, unprecedented _Impishness_ from Hux.

From his periphery, Kylo sees the hand Hux had pressed against his thigh flex restlessly. He doesn’t know what to make of it, though it feels important somehow. Hux has a poker face unlike anyone Kylo’s ever known and as long as he’s known Hux, he’s never seen Hux have a tell. If the hand flexing is some type of tell, he wants to pay it proper attention. His thoughts are interrupted again, though.

“Go on, bend.”

He bends at the knees a bit, fitting the soles of his feet into place and then, quite startlingly, Hux’s chest is pressed against his back. He inhales sharply, watching the way Hux’s arms snake down his, lining them up, raising them higher than what is necessarily comfortable. His breath is right by Kylo's ear and his head is only just hovering over Kylo's shoulder.

“Keep your shoulders back, arms straight and once you’ve got your target lined up with the front sight, inhale as you _slowly_ press on the trigger and let your exhale follow the firing. Imagine breathing in the tension of pressing down on the trigger and exhaling the actual shot. Try not to get too stiff either – the kickback on these blasters is none too friendly. You should plan to accommodate for that.”

“Anything _else_ , General?”

Kylo means for it to sound sarcastic or defensive because he’s uncharacteristically nervous, but to his embarrassment, it comes out much more like a suggestion.

He’s unexpectedly sad again when Hux’s body is back at its typical distance.

With a simper, Hux replies, “nothing I can think of, no. Go ahead and fire when ready, Ren.”

A proper _order_ from _The General_.

_“Go ahead and fire when ready, Ren.”_

Something about the assured authority in his voice – at being at the receiving end of a real order from The General – something about it is abnormally appealing. He’s felt like an apprentice, a Knight, a brother in arms, but certainly never a soldier. It’s new and while Kylo isn’t accustomed to or typically interested in being subservient to men like Hux, he really does rather like whatever is transpiring between them now.

His shots cover the torsos mostly and Hux congratulates him when the silhouette is pulled toward them for examination.

"Fine work there, Ren," Hux tells him kindly, "You know, most people aim for the heart and lungs, but it's more beneficial to aim for the lower pelvic area."

Pointing out the holes on the silhouette, Hux meets Kylo's eyes again before continuing, "in trading fire, always go for the knees first. Incapacitating an enemy is much less gruesome and frankly, there's less paperwork involved."

Despite himself, Kylo smirks while the other Knights laugh openly; he really hates that Hux has a good sense of humor. He can't even hide that he likes Hux's dry delivery and he knows Hux can tell because Hux notices absolutely everything. Spurred on by Kylo's positive regard, it seems, Hux expounds more confidently, "a head-shot is wonderful, for obvious reasons - quick, simple and with immediate results. The target of someone's head is small, though and often protected, so it's best not to count on that. Going for the heart and lungs too is a risk, as armored soldiers or assailants will have something covering those organs. If not, shots to the chest will slow them down well enough, but not stop them. To stop as assailant, go for the lower pelvic region."

He spreads his hands over the lower half of the paper silhouette, talking to Kylo as if it were just the two of them in the room and finishes, "the heaviest bleeding organs are cradled there and almost no one considers putting armor over it - always too concerned with the most obvious bits, like their lungs, heads and hearts. The lower pelvis, though - even if you miss an essential organ, you graze the pubic bone or pelvis which is debilitating agony. A lucky shot through there might even sever the spinal cord. And the organs there are heavy, heavy bleeders. It's not an immediate kill, but if you're in a tough spot, the head, heart and lungs are armored and the knees can't be taken out, go for the pelvic region. You'll have secured their demise before they known they've hit the floor."

The Knights are all soaking in Hux's baritone, waiting for their opportunity to surpass Hux's expectations and Kylo feels... well, he feels undeniably special for having been chosen first. Sol's admiration for Hux's gruesome lesson is like a choking miasma and Kylo very nearly gags on it, but he opts to ignore it, in favor of looking Hux in the eye and saying very simply, "I didn't know that. Thank you."

If the Knights are surprised at Kylo's show of humility and gratitude, it's nothing compared to Hux's awe. His pale cheekbones fill with color and the tips of ears go reddish and it's very, very flattering - more flattering than any coloring of anything has any right to be. Just for how they look, Kylo wants to reach out and touch Hux's ears to see if they're as hot to the skin as they seem they'd be, but he knows better than to just invite himself into Hux's personal space. He looks down at the blaster between them and mentions, "if you were Force-sensitive, General, I would repay you in teaching you how to halt and redirect blaster fire, but as it stands, I don't know how precisely to repay you for your lessons."

Hux doesn't miss a beat.

"Meditation."

Quirking an intrigued brow, Kylo asks, "really? You want to learn meditation?"

"I know you may find this difficult to believe, Ren, but I often find myself under stress."

The Knights laugh and reluctantly - oh, so reluctantly - Kylo smiles, unable to resist Hux's sarcasm. He gestures at Quix Ren and says with certainty, "Quix Ren is easily the best teacher for that. Collectively, the Knights may all have some meditative knowledge to impart and I would heed lessons from them all, but Quix is the strongest -"

"No. You."

The aura of Sol's adoration swiftly changes into something dark and distressed; Kylo tries not to enjoy it. Ignoring Sol again, Kylo resists the urge to look at Sol - or any of the other Knights, actually, as he feels their eyes on him like burns from cigarras and it's making him rather self-conscious. So, instead, he keeps Hux's stare, resolutely focused on keeping his expression unreadable.

"Me? Why?"

"You told me that _you_ didn't know how to repay _me_ ," Hux specifies, a glint in his eye, "I want you to be the one to teach me, Ren. Up to the challenge?"

"Of course," Kylo responds without thinking.

"Fantastic," Hux celebrates, making the inside of Kylo's head swirl with how quickly he just agreed to teach Hux meditation - was that another one of Hux's psych-tricks? Or is Kylo losing control over himself? Hard to tell the difference. Maybe Hux knows that and is using it to his advantage.

"We'll start next cycle, then?" Hux asks, "You should stay with us for the rest of the practice. I'd like to see how many head-shots you can make at a hundred yards."

Kylo never took Hux to be the forgiving type, but it would seem he was wrong about that. 

It would seem he was wrong about many things.

After his transgressions, Kylo would never expect Hux to be polite or inviting toward him and while Kylo is inclined to believe Hux is setting up some sort of trap for him to fall into, he rather hopes that inclination is wrong. He actually _hopes_ he's wrong on that count.

Making peace wit the fact that someone 'ordinary,' as Hux can still surprise him, Kylo decides to extend the cordiality; he nods in agreement, walks back up to the firing line, takes the safety off, readies his position and looks to Hux before saying, "at your command, General."

To see how red Hux's face goes in response is entirely worth the small effort it takes to be playfully friendly.

Sol's aura going green and grey with envy is also a fine reward.


End file.
